


Reach Out and Touch

by Epiphanyx7



Series: Reach Out and Touch (Somebody's Hand) [1]
Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Candles, F/F, Female Friendship, Female Homosexuality, Femslash, First Time, Friendship, It's Hard Out There for a Mutant, Kissing, Romantic Friendship, Wax
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-05
Updated: 2009-06-05
Packaged: 2017-11-01 12:25:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/356755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epiphanyx7/pseuds/Epiphanyx7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What are you doing?" Rogue whispers. "Kitty--"</p><p>"Let me touch you," Kitty says. "Please."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reach Out and Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Kink Bingo 2009. Kitty Pryde (Shadowcat) / Marie D'Ancanto (Rogue). Kind of softcore. Title from Arethra Franklin's "Reach Out and Touch"

  


It's second-nature to reach out and grab the person she bumps into. Kitty realizes, too late, that Rogue isn't wearing gloves and tries to jerk back, phasing on instinct, and Rogue falls straight through her and smacks into the mantle.

" _Fuck_ ," Rogue hisses, hot wax dripping down her arm from an upset candle. She doesn't look at Kitty.

"Sorry," Kitty says, a hot, embarrassed flush creeping over her cheeks. "I didn't - "

"I should be wearing gloves," Rogue replies woodenly, putting the candle back in it's place. It's brief horizontal life over, the flame sputters a bit, burning a little bit brighter. "Don't worry about it."

-

Rogue can be so wonderful, making jokes and stuff, checking out the hot guys on MTV and telling Katie why they couldn't ever get a rating higher than 9. "That one clearly is an egomaniac," she says, quirking an eyebrow at the latest It Man. "That one doesn't have the shoulders,"

Looking at Logan in a wife beater, it's difficult for Kitty to argue with that.

"He's got a weak jaw," Rogue had whispered in her ear, once, when they were watching the newest Superman movie. "Such a baby face - how are we supposed to take him seriously?"

And then other times she runs cold and icy, and not the kind of cold or icy that means she's been playing with Bobby. She drops silent, sudden and sullen, and she stares off into space, clearly not distracted but avoiding your gaze.

It took a long time for Kitty to understand, but now she thinks she gets it.

Rogue likes her friends, likes being understood and appreciated. She loves being in the mansion, but Rogue hates the fact that even here, nobody willingly touches her.

-

"Can I come in?" Rogue asked, tapping softly at the door to Kitty's room.

Her room mate is gone, so Kitty closes her book and says "Come in," shoving the novel - cheesy romances are hard to take seriously - into the drawer on her side table.

"Hi," Rogue says, eyes averted, voice sounding strangely wobbly.

Kitty isn't an idiot, opening her mouth right away to ask, "What's ---"

" _Bobby_ ," Rogue blurts, blinking back tears. "It's Bobby. He wants--" She chokes on her words, flushing dark red and tears spilling over her cheeks. "Kitty, he wants to _touch me_ , he wants to -- to kiss me, all the time - and I want him to, I really do - I can't stand it anymore, Kitty. I don't want to hurt him," and then she's sobbing.

Pulling her down onto the bed, Kitty rubs her back, trying to be comforting. "Oh, hey, it's - don't worry, things will work out." She says unconvincingly.

Rogue flinches away from her. "I just - sometimes, I need --"

 _What?_  Kitty wonders.

"Kitty," Rogue says. "Don't - don't touch me, okay?"

"What?" Kitty says out loud, and then Rogue is stripping off her gloves, folding them and placing them neatly on the side table, moving very slowly.

"Don't touch me," Rogue repeats, fingers hovering somewhere over Kitty's palm. "Please - just -"

Kitty obeys without thinking, lifting her hand until their palms are pressed, fingers entwined and yet still not touching. And then she needs to do more, so she phases her entire body and leans against Rogue, wrapping her arms around her, cheeks pressed together but still apart, breathing soft against her ear.

"Oh," Rogue says, and Kitty can hear how much she's trying not to cry.

"I'm sorry," Kitty whispers. "I know it's not enough."

-

"Kitty," Rogue says, the next time, sitting on her bed, bare legs sprawled inelegantly over the covers.

"Like this," Kitty says, arranging her just so, until they are wrapped around each other, only the thin barrier of the blankets separating them.

"It's--" 

"Not enough," Kitty understands. "I know."

-

Rogue's room is scented like vanilla and cinnamon, white and red candles lit on the side tables, another on the dresser, another on the windowsill. "Kitty?" She mumbles, half-asleep, dressed only in an over-sized band t-shirt and faded gray shorts.

"I think I get it, now," Kitty says, hoping that she isn't wrong. She could be, even though with every passing moment, she is more and more certain that she's right.

Stepping around Rogue, Kitty closes the door behind her, shrugging off her jacket, dropping the package of plastic wrap on the floor. Rogue steps back, automatically, but then remembers who Kitty is, what she can do, and she pauses. Instead of stepping closer, phasing away from Rogue's touch, Kitty walks around her to the windowsill.

"Was it you?" She asks, curious, "Lighting the candles, I mean, were you the one who puts them all over the mansion?"

Rogue shrugs, unrepentant, a force of habit she adopted from Logan. "I like them," she says. "They're pretty."

Kitty dips her fingers into the pool of liquid wax around the candle wick, hot and silky when she touches it. "Come here," She says, and Rogue obeys as if on a string.

Kitty lifts her hand and brushes her fingers over Rogue's cheek, stroking down her skin. The wax drips down her fingers, smearing over Rogue's cheek, a thin barrier that doesn't seem to be much at all.

"What are you doing?" Rogue whispers. "Kitty--"

"Let me touch you," Kitty says. "Please."

-

Rogue sucks in a breath when the wax touches her skin, but Kitty smooths it over with her fingers, leaving patterns and looping fingerprints behind. The girl beneath her shudders at every touch, gasping as Kitty smooths the hot wax over a shoulder, a thigh, trailing kisses over the cooling wax left behind her fingers.

This is lovely, Rogue still and sighing and eager, letting Kitty touch her. Her muscles tense beautifully, her back arches slightly, and Kitty moves very slowly, letting hot wax drip over her friend's skin and then smoothing it down with her fingers. Her hand has wax hardening on it, but it's still soft and warm, stealing heat from Rogue's skin when she touches her.

"It's okay," Kitty whispers.

Wax drips over Rogue's collarbone, collecting in a pool and spilling over onto her shoulder, onto the hand curled near her neck. She raises her hand, looking at it, and then dips her fingers into into the small pool of cooling wax, clear fluid turning cloudy as it hardens. "Can I?" She asks, hesitant. "Kitty - I want to touch you."

"Yes," Kitty says, "Please," and Rogue's wax-covered fingers trace the shell of her ear, slide down her jawbone.

"You're beautiful," Rogue tells her, voice awed and humble.

 _No_ , Kitty thinks, brushing chapped lips over the wax-covered skin of Rogue's collarbone, puffing soft and warm breaths over the hollow of her throat. _Not me._

Every move is careful, planned, and perfectly executed, because Rogue doesn't want to hurt her any more than Kitty wants to be hurt. She doesn't phase, though, not even as a precaution, because Rogue needs to be touched, needs to feel Kitty's weight and warmth, not just her proximity.

"It's okay," Kitty says, as Rogue's too-smooth fingertips trail up her back. "You won't hurt me, you _won't_ ," and she's right, about all of it, about Rogue, about herself, and about the damn scented candles, too.

Eyes shimmering, Rogue looks at her as if she's a goddess, as if she's beautiful instead of average and kind of mousy. It's exhilarating, to be worshiped so dutifully, so tenderly, and Kitty thinks that maybe there's nothing in the entire world like this. Rogue is hesitant, a little bit scared, her touch growing bolder when she makes Kitty moan with a well-placed breath.

Wax won't work for everything, so Kitty uses plastic wrap, putting the sheer cellophane over Rogue's lips and kissing her, their tongues sliding against each other slowly. Rogue's lips are full and luscious, delicious even through the plastic barrier.

"I'm sorry--" Rogue says, blinking up at her. Kitty knows that the kiss doesn't taste like her at all, so she rummages through the side table, finds a small bag of cinnamon hearts to compensate.

"It's okay," she says, dropping a candy into Rogue's mouth, putting one in her own. This time, the cellphane kisses are perfect and, Kitty knows that Rogue tastes like cinnamon candy and her skin smells like vanilla.

Wax-protected fingertips slide over sweat-damp skin, hot puffs of air substituting for a caress. The cinnamon hearts and cellophane work for kissing; not the same kind of messy kiss Kitty has shared with boys. Rogue is special, this is special, and Kitty thinks she could get used to this.

It works later, too, when she slides between Rogue's hips, Saran-Wrap protection that doesn't let Rogue hurt her. Kitty kisses her there, too, tongue lapping again and again while Rogue moans and shudders and runs her fingers through Kitty's hair.

Afterward, separated again by only the blankets, Rogue dips her fingers in the hot wax again. "Thank you," she whispers, stroking her thumb over Kitty's waist. "Thank you," she whispers, smoothing wax down so that she can press a soft kiss to the skin there. "Thank you."

Kitty stays awake, knowing it's too dangerous to sleep like this. As long as they stay awake, conscious, aware of each other, then it's safe and perfect. _I was right_ , Kitty thinks. _I was right._

-  



End file.
